


Knee Deep in Our World

by beezyland



Series: The Headfuck Breakfast Club [1]
Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Badass!Nicky, Drug Trafficker and Record Store Employee!Alex, Explicit Language, F/F, Gossip Girl AU, Gossip Girl meets Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist, Groupie!Morello, Model Student!Piper, The Headfuck Breakfast Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beezyland/pseuds/beezyland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Piper just wants Gossip Girl to leave her alone. And to get her brother out of trouble with drug dealers. And for Nicky to just make a move on that girl from Brooklyn she’s crushing on. And for that gorgeous Amazon with the glasses to stop smiling at her like that...but mostly the Gossip Girl thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knee Deep in Our World

_Hey Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Manhattan's elite. What's making the headlines on my hompage? Our very own Queen P herself, Piper Chapman…_

 

 

Piper Chapman, seventeen and Constance Billard School for Girls’ model student, angrily swipes the app away and hits the power button on her iPhone, sighing when the screen goes blank. She squeezes her fingers around the phone that looks to be barely hanging on, dirty and scratched with a piece of gum shoved into the dock connector, orange in the crevices and a phone number scrawled on in Sharpie along with “Gun.” Piper’s hand starts to shake, resisting the urge to throw the damn device across the room when it buzzes. The screen lights with a new text:

 

_YOU HAD AN EPIC NYC ADVENTURE LAST NIGHT?!?! WITHOUT ME?!? WTF?!_

 

That would be Piper’s best friend, Polly Harper. 

Piper will never forget how Polly jumped for joy when Gossip Girl, the anonymous gossip blogger, crowned "P" the new reigning queen. That was until Polly reached the bottom of the entry that revealed "P" stood for Piper Chapman. As Polly had pointed out (in the heat of the moment or so she says) it makes zero sense because Piper doesn't care about popularity. She mainly keeps to herself and hangs out with a modest crowd rather than the girls who pride themselves on their parents' net worth and the square footage of their Hampton's summerhouses. 

The text goes unread as Piper lets the phone fall from her hand. Despite having an hour or two of sleep, she has a perfect attendance record to honor. She’s ready to go into her normal routine when she notices a pair of black, square framed glasses buried in a head of dark hair on a pillow to her right. She feels lightheaded all of a sudden and scrambles to remember the previous night's events. 

"Oh shit."

 

 

 *

 

 

_24 Hours Earlier_

 

Piper Chapman, reluctantly reigning queen of Constance Billard and subsequently the Upper East Side, has a specific morning ritual.  

Her phone alarm goes off. She checks Gossip Girl. She makes her bed to match the impeccable standard of neatness the rest of her pink and white room is held to, and lays out her uniform. Checks Gossip Girl again. She goes into the bathroom and lets the flat iron heat as she exfoliates. Then—

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

Then opens the bathroom door, apparently.

Piper pulls her robe tighter to her body as her younger brother, Cal, races in, looking more paranoid than usual. Her jaw falls open as she stands there and watches as he sidesteps her and rummage through her medicine cabinet. 

 “Cal, what the hell?"

He pulls out a box of Star Wars Band-Aids that match his Star Wars shirt. Piper didn’t even know was stashed behind a row of artisanal skin products, hastily opens it and inside is a wad of cash kept together by a rubber band.

"Cal, what the hell?" Piper says again, more shock than annoyance, carrying the weight of what she's seen. "Has that always been in there?"

"Yep, for safe keeping. I know you'd never use Star Wars Band-Aids and the maids never touch your rooms because they're scared of you." 

"What's going on?"

"I'm in deep shit, Pipes. Like _deep_. Like Indiana Jones stuck in that pit of quicksand except it's just stinky, stinky poop and there are too many snakes around."

Piper scrunches her nose at the imagery. "So you're collecting your stash of money and what?"

"Skipping town. Laying low. Going to live in the woods with a wolf pack upstate. If some scary guys come around looking for me, tell them I died or I've joined the Peace Corps. Something believable."

Cal drags her into a hug, presses their cheeks together, only to realize her face is lathered with exfoliating facial cream that sticks to his facial hair. He mutters, “yuck,” and quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand.

"Pipes, you have a little something on your—"

"I know," she says quickly. "Why don't you just talk to mom and dad? I'm sure they can get you out of whatever it is you got yourself into this time."

"No, it's my problem. Men take care of their own problems and I’m a man now." Cal stalks back to his room and Piper follows. A duffle is open on his bed and stuffed with wrinkled clothes and a bong that was once a bear-shaped squeeze bottle of honey. "I don't belong here anyway." 

Piper stands by helplessly as Cal zips up his bag and throws it over his shoulder. He gives her another one-armed hug, sure to avoid the facial cream this time.

“Love you, sis.”

“You’re an idiot. I bet you’ll be back in time for dinner tonight.”

Cal starts for the front door and Piper races to their penthouse terrace to watch him go. All his life Cal has been known as the black sheep of the Chapman Empire. Try as he might he could never measure up to the impossible standards set by his older brother and sister. Piper always liked that he was different, that he broke the WASP mold by purely being himself. She’s always considered it one of his greatest qualities.

She leans against the stone banister and watches Cal walk out the front door and towards his terribly ugly car littered with bumper stickers. He doesn’t get very far before two bulky men in tracksuits approach him. Her heart speeds up as she watches them engage in conversation. Eventually, Cal tosses his bag into his car before he goes with the two men, gets into a van and drives off. Piper stares long after they’re gone, then rushes back to her room and grabs her iPhone that looks as good as new in its pink case. She dials frantically and listens as it rings.  

"Hello?" Cal sounds calm, too calm, and he’s never that calm. Mellow maybe, but not calm. That's when Piper knows something is really wrong. 

"Hey, I saw you leave with those two guys. Is everything okay?"

"Fine. Perfect. I'm not going to be able to make it to school so if you could call the nurse and say I’m sick, pretending to be mom, I'll be eternally grateful."

"Cal..."

"And whatever you do, don't tell mom and dad. Just go on like everything is normal, alright, Piper?"

"Okay."

"Have a good day at—"

The call cuts off. Piper is shaking and terrified, but why? It isn't like those guys were hurting Cal and stuffing him into the trunk. He went quietly and they seemed to know each other. It might be harmless, just Cal skipping school like he does every Monday. She tries to convince herself that everything is fine as she continues to get dressed, but can't shake the gut feeling that something is really wrong. 

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in her head. As she searches her phone contacts, Piper takes deep breaths to try and calm down. She dials with shaky fingers and curses when she’s sent straight to voicemail.

 

“ _You’ve reached Nichols. Suck a clit.”_

_BEEP._

 

_*_

 

 

Piper Chapman and Nicky Nichols are friends. 

Their parents run in the same social circle so they’ve known each other all their lives, bitched about their bitchy mothers while drinking stolen champagne on golf courses and poolside during some rich asshole party at some swanky hotel. Despite bonding over their similar backgrounds, they couldn’t be any more different. While Piper is known for her pristine image, extensive list of scholastic accolades and being “Queen P,” Nicky “N Nasty” Nichols is known for her wild hair, extensive list of girls she’s fucked and being the debate team’s two year champion in Original Oratory. Nicky can talk a good game so attempting to persuade her is never an easy task.

In order to do so, Piper ventures into unchartered territory—the girls bathroom near the school’s pool—Nicky’s “office.”

Piper checks her phone as she walks down the Constance Billard halls and finds a slew of text messages from Polly, mostly all-caps rants about whatever Gossip Girl just posted, and her sweet, awkward boyfriend, Larry. Piper seriously has more pressing matters to attend to and gets distracted by the sound of moaning that only grows louder as Piper gets closer to the bathroom. She pauses outside the door, hesitates, then grinds her Versace flats into the ground and pushes into the bathroom.

“Who goes there!” comes Nicky’s signature, throaty voice. Too many cigarettes, Piper is sure and has told her before. She’s also sure Nicky knows and just doesn’t care. All is quiet and Piper finds it unnerving.

“Um, it’s Piper,” she says timidly.

“Just a sec, Chapman!” Nicky shouts back. The moaning is back in an instant and grows louder and louder as Piper stares at the tile floor and tries not to blush. The sex sounds finally come to a crescendo and a second later, Nicky Nichols is strutting out of the stall, fully clothed, wiping her mouth with the collar of her uniform shirt. “Ay, blondie, cute picture of you on the front page of Gossip Girl this AM.”

Nicky waves her iPhone in front of Piper’s face and the blonde swipes it, grimacing at the photo of her in her robe with the facial mask still on.

 

 

_Mrs. Doubtfire isn’t the best look for you, P._

 

 

“Damn it!” Piper shouts. “Who even took this picture? That’s just cruel.”

“You gotta admit you were asking for it.” Nicky inspects the photo again with unrivaled amusement. It’s yet to get old. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Piper hesitates and glances over to the random girl who’s buttoning her oxford and fixing the navy school skirt on her hips. She sends Nicky a flirty look—one Nicky acknowledges with a noncommittal nod—before strutting out of the bathroom and letting the door swing closed after her.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Nicky shrugs, no big deal, really. “Eh, you gotta admire a chick who's ready to go at all times of the day, but there's something about wanting it too much and trying too hard. I dunno. Sometimes challenges are fun. Sometimes I want to have to try to slide into home, not walk the bases."

"Did you just make a baseball reference?" Piper asks teasingly. She always has to take a moment to marvel at how she can be insanely uncomfortable in Nicky’s presence one second and transition into the ease of their friendship in the next.

"Softball. Need me to explain that one to you _again_ , Chapman?"

Everyone knows Nicky Nichols is quite intimately acquainted with the softball team and various strategies and how to score. And she loves her analogies. 

Nicky lifts her foot to the edge of the sink and tugs on the loose strings of her combat boots with the top cuffed down, exposing the inside print that looks to be a pattern of the All Seeing Eye repeated over and over again.

“Nice boots,” Piper says. “They aren’t dress code.”

“Yeah, well, I get sent to the dean’s office every day for my hair and sit in the VIP section of detention, but my family is the reason they have their newly renovated admin building. What  can they do to me?” Nicky thrusts her fingers through her unruly hair and motions to the stall. “So, batter up?”

Piper giggles at Nicky’s resilience and shakes her head no. 

"I'm actually here about my brother, Cal,” Piper explains. “He’s in trouble and I’m pretty sure I watched him get kidnapped and I’m 500% sure it’s drug related.”

"Oh, so you thought to yourself, yeah, good ol' Nicky would know, the one with the drug problem, because everyone this side of the East River knows that fat camp she went to was actually rehab, she probably plays weekly poker games with them thugs."

Piper’s lips twitch as she listens to Nicky’s apparent self-loathing and touches her friend’s shoulder. "I was actually thinking, hey, maybe I'll ask Nicky, my friend, the one whose mom thinks she's at SAT prep courses with me when she's actually stalking some poor girl in Brooklyn that she's apparently crushing on. 

"Crushing is so third grade. I’m infatuated, actually." The look on Nicky’s face is a clear _touché._ "So you know who Cal buys from? What exactly is he into these days? Gotta start with the basics."

"I don't...oh!" Piper looks around as if afraid someone might overhear. "He was packing this morning and he had a bong," Piper whispers.  

Nicky throws her head back with a laugh. “Jesus, you’re even more innocent than I thought. Don’t worry. Playing a little Scooby-Doo with me will fix that right up. We should talk to Flaca, you know, Yearbook Editor, grammar snob slave driver. Yeah, her boyfriend’s got a monopoly on dealing to the St. Jude’s douches.”

The warning bell sounds just as Nicky pulls out a cigarette. Her shoulders slump and she curses under her breath, biting lightly on the end. Piper plucks the cigarette from her friend’s lips and slips it into the breast pocket of Nicky’s uniform blouse and gives it a gently pat.

“Quit tryin’a feel me up, Chapman,” Nicky teases. “Gossip Girl’s gonna start shit.” 

“Just shut up and let’s go before you make me late.”

“Nah, that one’s all on your Jew Ferby boyfriend!” Nicky grabs her bag from off the ground and throws the strap over her shoulder. “How is Jerry?”

Piper gives her a look as she leads the way out of the bathroom. “You know his name. I know you know his name. You’ve met him a million times now.”

“Yeah, but I’m willing to bet I was pretty wasted and or high as a fucking kite three out of four of those times.”

She has a point.

Suddenly, everyone’s phones go off simultaneously. The underclassmen continue to scurry along, terrified of being late to class, while the upperclassmen—Piper and Nicky included—continue at a leisure pace and check their phones out in the open. They’re hit with yet another update from Gossip Girl.

 

_Did P really think her little trip to Lezzyland would go unnoticed? What do P and N have cooking? There's nothing Gossip Girl loves more than a good mystery._

_P.S. We always knew you cleaned up well, P. And, N, nice boots._

 

 

"Twice in one day! Goddamn it!" Piper shouts as she walks down the hallway with Nicky, who's barely listening, checking out all the girls in their short uniform skirts. "Is my life really that interesting? I mean, Daya is hooking up with that new, young teacher guy, but no, Gossip Girl wants to stalk _me_?" 

"You do have a way of jamming your foot in your mouth, oh, like right now.” Nicky takes a look around the crowded halls and Piper slaps her hand over her mouth, realizing what she said. “And it's fucking hilarious. No wonder Gossip Girl’s up your ass twenty-four/seven." 

"Piper! There you are!” Polly shuffles over, hugging her binder to her chest. She stops in front of them and looks down her nose at Nicky, who realizes and smirks. “I’d ask where you were all morning, but…”

  
“Yes, I’ve seen it too.” Piper catches the look of disgust and unease on Polly’s face, directed towards Nicky and narrows her eyes, urging her to play nice. 

“Hey Hopper,” Nicky says.

“It’s _Harper_. Polly _Harper_. We’ve been going to school together since Fieldston. You puked vodka and hash brownies all over me during freaking cotillion.” 

“Fuck man, I forgot.” Nicky presses her hand to her chest with mock apology. “Too bad Gossip Girl doesn’t write on you more or, well, ever. Maybe then you’d be more memorable. But, hey, we can’t all be _Queen_ P, huh?”

“So! We’ll meet up at lunch, right, Nicky?” Piper ushers the conversation along. “You know, to work on the thing. The thing…assignment…thing.”

“Sure, blondie.” Nicky laughs as she pulls her bulky headphones on over her wild hair and walks ahead of them with a smile. “Fuckin’ entertaining.”

Polly folds her arms and glares after Nicky, who somehow senses it because she holds up her middle finger as she makes her way through the crowd of teenage girls.

“Those boots are hideous,” Polly says. “Maybe Gossip Girl is losing her touch…”

“I like to think Gossip Girl is more impressed with Nicky’s fuck-the-world attitude and how she just attracts certain kinds of people…and her family is loaded and her mom’s boyfriend is like six years older than us or something, makes for good drama,” Piper rambles. Then smiles when she realizes she’s rambling. “Good morning, bestie.”

“Right. I’m your bestie, not N Nasty Nicky Nichols and don’t you forget it!” 

As they walk to class, Polly continues to talk her ear off, but Piper’s head is somewhere else completely, hoping and praying her brother is okay or at least alive.

 

 

*

 

 

Flaca Gonzales is one of the smartest girls at Constance Billard and also one of the scariest.

The girl is like a pit bull of determination and when she locks her jaws on what she wants she doesn’t let go until she gets it. Flaca is a grammarian and a dictator and a lover of dark makeup, especially around the eyes. Her list of achievements along with how tightly she runs the yearbook committee justifies the scholarship that allows her to attend school for almost no fee.  

"Jesus Christ, it's like a sweatshop in here," Nicky says as they walk into the computer lab that doubles as the yearbook classroom. It's a sweatshop where girls sit at computers with Photoshop open and listen to nothing, but English rock or English electronic bands, mostly The Smiths and Depeche Mode.  

"What the fuck do you want, Nichols?" Flaca asks without looking up from the photographs spread out in front of her. She already sounds annoyed or maybe she always sounds annoyed. "I already told you we ain't buying what you're selling, puta." 

"Don't knock it till you try it, seniorita," Nicky shoots back. "You're the brains behind your boy's operation, huh?"

Flaca looks up at them, her eyes angry slits heavily outlined in equally as sharp black lines. "I don't know what you're talking about. You better shut your fucking mouth before someone hears you wrong."

“Hey.” Nicky puts her hands up to show she means no harm. “We’re just looking for Chapman’s brother and wanna know if your boyfriend was hooking him up.”  

“Cal doesn’t do any of the hard stuff,” Piper explains. She takes a quick look around the room and when she doesn’t see any faculty, she whispers, “He’s just into weed.” 

"Why would I bother telling you anything?"

"Because I've got a little something that’s sure to grease your lips..." Nicky flips her phone over to show Flaca a picture of a blurry black and white photo of a young boy dressed as a cowboy. _The Smiths_ printed in the corner. “Yeah, my friend said it’s a super rare lp. All I want is a little info and it's all yours." 

"How do I know you're legit?" Flaca asks skeptically.

"I'm Nicky Nichols, everyone's best friend and life coach. I float between the cliques. You think I built such a glowing reputation on lies and backstabbing?"

"Licking pussy would be my guess," says a disgruntled girl at the next computer over. Piper and Flaca look between the girl and Nicky with knowing stares and all she can do is shrug and grin in return. 

"Could we maybe go somewhere else to talk?"

Flaca directs the room to keep working while she steps away and leads Piper and Nicky over to the far end of the lab, through a door and into what was once a dark room and is now a utility closet in the modern age.  

"Okay," Flaca says, shutting the door behind them. "You didn't hear it from me...and if you tell anyone—Gossip Girl especially—I will know it's you two and murder you both." Flaca narrows her eyes at Piper. "I already know you got a big mouth, blanca. Daya does her work-study in the cafeteria. I'd start packing lunch from home if I were you."

"Chapman's gonna keep her mouth shut. Hell, I'll vouch for her." Nicky waves at Piper dismissively and the "Queen P" draws her fingers across her lips as if zipping a zipper. "You were saying?"

"My man, Ian, he's done with the pot game, moved on to bigger and better, crowned King of Molly now. Unless you brother is into only the purest MDMA and psychedelic amphetamine then you're snorting the wrong line."

Nicky growls in frustration and scratches her fingers through her hair. "Well, you think you could chop up a sweet little half gram into a nice, thick line for us to chase then?” 

Flaca leans back against the door and thinks for a moment, then snaps her fingers. "Poussey, the transfer student from Germany or whatever, let's say the yearbook committee has a special arrangement with her if you know what I mean."

"She supplies you and your girls."

Flaca smiles proudly. "In bulk."

"Shit, do you bitches have membership cards too?" Nicky asks. "Class credit for smoking pot and listening to The Smiths, now there's a life hack if I ever heard one."

"So there's a chance she was selling to my brother?" Piper asks hopefully.

"I know everyone, well, except maybe your goody-two-shoes crowd, buys from Poussey and even a lot of the Jude's boys so there's your line. When do I get my vinyl?"

"You going to Crazy Lou’s tonight?" Nicky asks. 

Flaca presses her lips together, considering. "Who's playing?"

"Sideboob plays every goddamn time Caputo can get ‘em in the lineup. Probably that punk-infused pro-Israel fuck-Europe politicized version of Hanson. The Great Scots—”

"The fucking bagpipe band where they were gimmicky kilts and shit on stage? Fuck that.” Flaca hisses with disgust. “What is it Open Multi-Cultural Mic Night? Fuck all of that noise. How do you queercore kids even deal with that?"

"Lots and lots of alcohol."

Flaca shakes her head like it’s sacrilegious to entertain shitty music. "Just give me the vinyl tomorrow." 

"Deal."

When they walk out of the closet, Nicky is sure to announce to the room that, yes, a lesbian, a goth girl and the Park Avenue Princess walked into a closet and "threesome" is the only plausible explanation, sure to add that they should all tip off Gossip Girl, maybe suggest a Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe pun. Flaca shoots her a deadly glare and when she glances around the room they all lower their heads. None of them are going to talk, part of the reason Nicky even said anything.

"You hang out with Flaca outside of school?" Piper asks once they’re out in the hall.

"We frequent the same joints from time to time, but don't ever acknowledge it outside of, you know, just now," Nicky explains casually. "This is just a taste of my world. You ready to see how deep this hole goes, Alice?"

Piper feels her phone buzz and sees it’s another text from Polly, one that she ignores without another thought.

"Lead the way, Rabbit."

 

 

 *

 

 

When Poussey Washington arrived on the scene in the middle of the previous school year, Constance Billard flipped out. She’s this cool, openly lesbian self-proclaimed "military brathole" who speaks fluent German and has excess swag that lights up every room she enters. Her fun-loving laidback demeanor makes her easy to be around and makes you want to be around her. It’s no mystery why she's friends with everyone and has connections to the best weed in the city.  

"Yo Poussey!" Nicky shouts, just to get shushed by the librarian. "Sorry," Nicky whispers. "It’s the Tourette's. My mom’s probably Googling experimental surgery as we speak.”

Piper shakes her head, grabs Nicky by the tail of her untucked uniform shirt and drags her away from the front desk where the librarian is glaring daggers at them. They weave through aisles of books before finding Poussey leaning coolly against a bookshelf and silently laughing.

“Yo, I’ve met a lot of crazy white bitches and you, Nicky Nichols, you’re top three.” Poussey holds up three fingers just for emphasis. Nicky looks pretty damn proud. “I got your text. W’sup?”

“Poussey, have you met my friend, Piper?” Nicky asks. “She’s a declared non-lesbian so try not to fall in love with her.” Poussey rolls her eyes and Nicky smirks, such a fan of saying shit just to elicit a reaction. Try as she might, Piper will never understand where Nicky’s particular brand of confidence comes from. “Chapman, Poussey’s in the same boat as me. S.S. I Wanna Sex Up My Straight Best Friend.”

“Fuck you, Nichols,” Poussey whisper-shouts. “Am I really wasting my lunch period on this, man?” 

“Hi,” Piper says sweetly. “My advice would be to ignore Nicky always and I was just wondering if you could maybe tell me if you ever sold weed to a Cal Chapman. I have a picture of him if you need…” Piper pulls out her phone and swipes her finger through her photos. “I would really appreciate your cooperation…”

Poussey looks to Nicky. “Is this white girl f’real?”

“Hashtag-white-girl-problems,” Nicky replies.

“Here’s a good one!” Piper’s so full of anxiety and shoves her phone into Poussey’s face with more force than intended. So much so that Poussey has to step back to look at the picture. 

“Nope. I’ve seen the guy around, but we ain’t in business.”

“Damnit!” Nicky shouts. And gets shushed by the same librarian who’s shelves away. “Who picked this fucking meeting place? I swear.” 

Piper slumps back against a shelf and frowns. “And we’re back to square one.” 

Poussey laughs. “So you’re trying to find a specific dealer? Why don’t you just ask Vause? Nichols, you two are tight, right? She’s upper management, yo. If anyone can find one dealer doing business in any of the boroughs it’s her.” 

“That’s fucking brilliant,” Nicky says, her mouth dropping open with her smile. She pulls out her phone and opens a new text. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“See, man, more proof you need to cool it on the whippits, Nichols,” Poussey teases. “Seriously, that shit will fuck you up.”

“Well, it was lovely chatting, Washington.” Nicky is sure to playfully shoulder past Poussey as she walks by. From over her shoulder, Nicky adds, “I’ve got Pre-Cal with Taystee next period. I’ll be sure to put in a discreet gay word for you.”

Piper is certain she’s never seen Nicky run as fast as she does when Poussey pulls a random book off the nearest shelf and hurls it in her direction.

 

 

*

 

  

It’s the last class of the day when Piper’s phone buzzes with a text from Nicky:

_My friend Alex can help us out. Meet tonight in front of ur building. 8ish. Wear something sexy… n that u don’t mind sweating in or getting blood on. ;)_

Then a second text comes seconds later:

 

_NO MASSED PRODUCTED HOT TOPIC SHIT. DON'T EMBARRASS ME CHAPMAN!_

 

Piper sinks low into her chair and thumbs out a text beneath the desk, asking Polly to cover for her for the night. Whatever the teacher is talking about is completely lost on her. Her open notebook is completely blank and even if she tried to take notes, Piper’s sure she’d just end up writing _what the fuck did I get myself into_? Over and over and over again.

 

 

*

 

 

Crazy Lou’s is like nothing Piper has been immersed in before. 

At the far front of the club is a stage with a barricade at the foot, separating the performers from the punk crowd, varying combinations of leather, chains, tattoos and piercing. They’re all amped up and moving in waves to the music, beneath the colored lights that race around the room. Despite being in deep violation of the city’s health code regulations and filled with sketchy people, it isn’t bad. However, the band playing is terrible. There’s even a guy playing a bagpipe and wearing a kilt on stage. Weird.

Piper tries to keep up with Nicky, who might have actually tried to do something with her hair that’s still wild with insane volume, and who might also be looking crazy hot in her little black dress, leather jacket and those GG-approved boots, whose face might have lit up when she spotted a certain someone across the room. Piper tries to stick by Nicky as she stands and stares, silently trying to psych herself up, just to throw her hands up and opt to go out front for a cigarette. Piper shakes her head at the idea of secondhand smoke and Nicky says she’ll find her when Alex arrives.

Before she can make it to the tables near the bar, Piper gets bumped from behind and her phone goes flying, slides across the disgusting beer drenched floor and right into the mosh pit. Piper has never been to a club like this before, but she’s certain diving into a crowd of jumping, dancing, thrashing youths isn’t the smartest idea. But it’s her phone, her lifeline. She got grounded from her phone for a week once and it had been pure torture.

Piper balls her fists and bends her knees, ready to push her way through all the sweaty bodies when a gorgeous Amazon of a girl with jet-black hair and milky skin emerges from the mosh. All she’s wearing is a simple white v-neck, dark skin-tight jeans, a flannel shirt tied around her waist and black and white Chucks. Piper is mesmerized for a moment, wondering how one makes simplicity so sexy, and then she notices how Amazon is holding a familiar pink case clad iPhone that’s glowing orange.   

“My phone!” 

“Yours?” the girl shouts back. “It got a little trampled and someone broke open an orange glow stick! It’s everywhere!”

“I’m just glad I got it back!” Piper takes her phone and is horrified to see a long scratch across the screen and realizes the case is drenched in strange liquid and cracked. “Uh, thanks!” 

“No problem! I’m Alex, by the way!”

“Nicky’s friend? I’m Piper! I’m the one who needs your help!” 

“Awesome!” 

Alex motions to the back of the club, where it’s quieter and Piper goes to snag an empty table. Alex stops over at the bar first and exchanges words with the bartender, a tough-looking woman with the sides of her head shaved. When Alex joins Piper at the table, she sets down a bottle of champagne and a handful of glasses. She takes the seat next to Piper, pushes her black square-frame glasses up the bridge of her nose and gives her the cutest smile. Everyone she’s met in Nicky’s world so far has been intimidating, but there’s something about Alex that’s quietly inviting. 

“This band is a piece of shit!” Alex shouts. “What is with that fucking bagpipe? I told Nicky we should meet at Camera Obscura—I hear Sophia’s been killing it lately—but, no, stupid Christopher’s shit band is playing so of course Lorna’s going to be here and, you know, Nicky—” 

“Is obsessed with her,” Piper says. “Oh, sorry, _infatuated_. So the infamous straight girl crush’s name is Lorna? Nicky never tells me actual things about her, just makes softball analogies with that lovesick look on her face.”

“Yup, sounds like Nichols.” Alex pours the champagne onto her hand to wash away the glow stick liquid, letting _champagne_ dribble onto the ground. The wasteful impact of what she’s doing doesn’t even seem to touch her. “I was the one who had to break it to Nicky that Lorna’s straight as a ruler. She has an Edward Cullen cardboard cutout and a Christopher’s #1 fan shirt she wears under her clothes because Lorna weights like ninety-eight pounds and Christopher’s girlfriend, Angela, is on the wrestling team.”

“So girl chases girl chases boy who’s committed to girl?” Piper pieces it all together.

“Welcome to our world, kid.” Alex reaches for Piper’s phone and starts cleaning it with the sleeve of her flannel. “I keep telling Nicky, rule #1 is you don’t fall for a straight girl, but does Nicky Nichols ever listen?” The dark-haired girl shakes her head and laughs, sliding the phone back to Piper and adjusting the expensive watch on her wrist. “Ten o’clock on the dot. I never keep a pretty girl waiting.”

Piper flushes. “Uh, I thought we were suppose to meet at nine?”

“Really? Nicky said ten was okay. Nine is when Christopher’s shitty band’s set started and I didn’t want to be here for that. Wait, so they’ve been on stage for an hour now? That’s ridiculous! I need to get Boo to talk to Chang about this…”

Piper decides that she is going to kill Nicky Nichols. She picks at her plastic case and a whole pink piece cracks off. Piper sighs, also deciding to remove the whole damn thing and online shopping for a new case later. 

“Which one’s Lorna?” Piper stands halfway out of her seat and squints her eyes at the small mosh at the foot of the stage, searching for that head of waves and curls that’s probably orbiting her most recent crush. “I’d like to see the reason I’ve been here, mostly alone, for the last hour.” 

“Well, you’re not alone now.”

Alex smiles and there’s something so damn charming about the girl and her intense gaze that makes Piper feel her face start to burn up. She instinctively stares down at her hands in her lap as Alex starts to fill the glass flutes with champagne.

“So you’re looking for your brother?”

Alex pushes a glass of champagne towards her and Piper takes it just to hesitate, clean the rim of the glass with the edge of her sweater, and ultimately decide she’d better not drink. Alex laughs with amusement, not judgment, and listens as Piper explains the day she’s had and describes her search for her brother. 

Her iPhone in hand, Alex hits send on a text and drains the rest of her champagne flute in a gulp. “Alright. I texted my guys to see what they know about your brother.”

“I hope he’s okay…” Piper bites on the inside of her cheek as her legs fidget. She has no idea how she got through the day without having a mental breakdown. It’s probably in part thanks to Nicky’s presence and humor, but Piper isn’t about to tell Nicky that.

“Hey,” Alex says smoothly. She lays her hand on Piper’s leg and all of a sudden the fidgeting stops. Piper slowly looks up and finds Alex looking right at her. “I’m sure your brother’s fine.”

There’s absolutely no way for Alex to know that, but something about the way she says it or maybe the look in her inviting eyes puts Piper at ease. Alex smiles, evidentially knowing the effect she has on Piper and it kind of feels like they’re having a moment. At the realization, Piper starts to fidget again, even more so than before, and she has never been happier to see Nicky stumbling over. She reeks of cigarette smoke and has the biggest smile on her face as she squeezes herself between Alex and Piper, throwing an arm around each of them.

“Hey!” Nicky shouts. “Alex, I see you’ve met my Constance Billard schoolgirl friend, Piper. Piper, I see you’ve met my high school dropout lesbian friend, Alex.”

“Beautiful introduction,” Alex says sarcastically. “You have such a way with words.” Her slight frown quickly turns into a patronizing smile. “Hey Piper, has Nicky told you about how she likes to follow Lorna into the bathroom? Yeah, Nicky has this thing for standing around in there and waiting for Lorna to ask how she looks just so Nichols can tell her she looks hot. _Every fucking time_ , I swear.”

“Don’t hate the long-term game,” Nicky sneers. “At least I don’t lie to girls to get them to put out.” Piper dramatically turns to give Alex a questioning look while Nicky laughs out loud. “Shit, I’m too late, aren’t I? How did you two even find each other? Fate?”

How did they find each other? Out of all the people in this venue that’s obviously exceeding its safety code regulated max capacity, Alex was the Good Samaritan that picked up her phone and managed to find her to give it back. Is there any other word for that?

Before either of them can respond, Piper sees Alex grin and wave. She follows Alex’s gaze and finds the object of Nicky Nichol’s affection. Lorna Morello isn't like any of the girls Piper is used to seeing Nicky hang around. She's adorable and girly with loose curls in her dark hair and her lips perfectly outlined in bright red. She's more Summer Roberts than Ashley Davies that's for sure. Piper is now starting to see what Nicky meant by a challenge. 

"Hey Vause!" Lorna yells in a thick, Brooklyn accent. "It's been so long since you came around Lou’s, a few of the other girls were starting to talk about how you think you're too cool for us or something."

"Me? Too cool for you, Lorna? Never," Alex says. "Now, Nichols, on the other hand..."

"Shut it," Nicky snaps. "Jeez, that's the thanks I get for bringing you this pretty blonde package?" Nicky waves a hand in Piper’s direction. “This friendship is starting to feel a little one-sided, Vause."

"I knew you looked familiar when I saw you first walk in!" Lorna gasps and points a finger right at Piper. "You! You're all over Gossip Girl all the time!"

Piper nods, finally ready to accept this other fact of fate. "Yup, that's me."

Lorna shoots Nicky a sly look. "Just when I was beginning to think I was your only straight friend, Nichols."

"Straight?" Alex asks, raising both of her brows. Piper looks back at her with a similar question in her eyes, but doesn't voice it. 

"Yeah, she's dating this Jewish kid," Lorna jumps in. "Gossip Girl doesn't think he's worth her time, refuses to call him by name, just refers to him as Pie Fucker. Apparently there was an incident." 

Nicky rocks back in her chair with laughter. "Poor Jerry's never gonna live down the Waldorf Thanksgiving Incident! Fucking classic." 

"I'm Morello, by the way.” She gives Piper a sweet, friendly smile. “Lorna Morello, but that's such a grandma name, y’know? I just go by Morello."

"Piper Chapman, but I bet you got that." Piper gives a resigning nod. "So does everyone outside the Upper East Side look at Gossip Girl and make fun of us?"

"Because they don't got anything better to do than check Gossip Girl every thirty seconds," Nicky says sarcastically. "Chapman's got a little center of the universe complex going on. WASP upbringing and brainwash. We're working on it."

"Well," Morello says. "My girl friends and I love Gossip Girl in the way that America loves reality TV. I wouldn't call it an obsession or anything like that, but it's a fun way to kill time in Study Hall. Honestly, it's kinda surreal I’m sittin' here with P and N." 

"You sayin’ you use Gossip Girl to keep tabs on me, kid?" Nicky smirks wickedly and Morello meets her eyes, chin tilted down and an eyebrow raised. If the Brooklyn native is at all aware of Nicky's crush on her she isn't doing anything to discourage her.  

Before Morello can respond, Alex raises her hand as if in a classroom. "Question: What the hell is Gossip Girl?"

The other three turn to look at her with disbelief. A few seconds of silence pass in a deeply dramatic moment. Alex shrugs innocently in return. 

"Gossip Girl is the bane of my existence," Piper says. She's aware of how ridiculously dramatic she sounds, but at this point she really doesn't care.  

"It's a website, a blog, and I think they just got a Twitter," Nicky explains. "Anyways, it's where sad, pathetic, bored Upper East Side kids send in gossip, 'tips' and pics of other Upper East Side kids doing ‘scandalous’ shit. Then the ever eloquent, anonymous Gossip Girl posts about it. It's like the Insiderism Bible and Gossip Girl is a god who's got a real hard-on for posting Piper's misery for the cyber world to see."

"Don't remind me." Piper groans.

"Hey, I saw the post of you this morning," Morello says. "The one with the gunk all on your face. I thought your robe was cute. You totally worked it. C'mon, no one looks good in the morning. Luckily, majority of us don't have Gossip Girl to report on it."

"Thank you, Morello." Piper finds herself smiling. After the day she's had, she almost forgot what it was like to smile. "I see why Nicky's always talking so highly of you." 

"Yeah?" Morello playfully narrows her eyes. "You talking about me to your rich kid friends, Nichols?"

Nicky shrugs and takes a long pull from the champagne flute that’s been sitting untouched in front of Piper. All of their phones go off (except Alex) and they quickly check it. Gossip Girl. Alex leans over Piper's shoulder to check out this Gossip Girl firsthand and Piper is hyper aware of their close proximity. 

 

 

_Where or where have our favorite Upper East Siders gone? Oh where oh where could P and N be? Lower East Side maybe? N is no stranger, but we expected better of our Queen P. Why so slumming?_

 

_Meanwhile, how hot is too hot for teacher? Looks like D would know._

 

 

"Shit!" Piper cries out, slamming her phone against the table. And there’s another dent. "Shit! Shit! Shit! I might have been the accidental tip on this one... Shit!"

"You're a terrible person, Chapman," Nicky says. Her eyes remain on her smartphone, as she likes Gossip Girl's post with the tap of her thumb. "I fucking love it."

Alex chuckles. "God, I don't miss high school at all."

"Ooo! There's Christopher!" Morello shouts, resting her hand on Nicky's shoulder as she rises up onto the tips of her toes to try to look over the crowd. "I gotta tell him how good they were tonight... It was nice meeting you, Chapman. I almost feel sorry for leaving you alone with these two. Hey, are you guys doing anything later? Text me if you do, Nichols." 

"Aye, kid! Tell Christuhfuh nice skirt!" Nicky shouts after her. "I had one just like it in the third grade!"

"Don't tell him that!" Alex butts in. "Tell him his band _sucks_ and to give up the bagpipe or give up music entirely!"

Morello flips them both off and with a smile on her lips. They watch as she rushes over to the bar where Christopher jumps with shock when she touches his arm and starts talking at him. Nicky watches and sinks low in her chair, shaking her head from side to side. Alex frowns and rubs her hand over Nicky’s shoulder.

“Don’t get me wrong, you pining is entertaining as hell, but also a serious waste of your time.” Alex shakes Nicky by the shoulders as if that’s all it takes to do away with a crush. “ _If you’re lucky_ you’ll catch her in an experimental phase and that shit never ends well. Then you’ll push each other away and that would suck for all of us. Do yourself a favor, be her friend and move on.”

“Don’t you think I’m tryin’? My office is a revolving door. Pipe can vouch for that, huh, Pipe?” 

Nicky wiggles her eyebrows at Piper, who looks away and would rather not remember what happened this morning. Wow, that was just this morning? It feels like it’s been Thursday forever and, yes, Piper is going to ignore the way Alex is looking at her too. 

“I’ve been fucking bitches and sluts left and right, but they aren’t Lorna,” Nicky continues. “We live in such a bullshit toxic world where everyone’s a liar, playing head games and whatever, but Lorna means every single thing she says. I like that. I like _her_. If I could stop I would, but I can’t.” Nicky looks over to the bar and scoffs at how Morello is chatting Christopher’s ear off and the guy refuses to appreciate what’s right in front of him. “So, Chapman, what do you think my chances are with that?”

“Just so you know, anything above .99% gives her false hope,” Alex points out.

“For your information, Taystee gave me a 43.03% chance and she’s a math prodigy,” Nicky says snottily. “So shut the fuck up, Vause.” 

“I’d say 54%,” Piper responds. “Because I see the way you look at her and I also see how she definitely looks back.” 

Nicky straightens in her seat and smiles brightly. “You deserve a shot on me.”

Piper tries to tell Nicky she doesn’t want to drink when Alex’s phone buzzes against the table. She checks it and the look on her face is pure _oh shit_. Alex tentatively shows it to the other two and on the screen is a picture of Cal, both of his eyes swollen shut and blood dried on his fat lips. Piper gasps and feels a little lightheaded as all her worst fears about today are confirmed. 

“Luckily, you called me,” Alex says as she types out a new text message. “They won’t touch him again. I can promise you that. They just want the money he owes them. Three grand.”

“Jesus, Baby Chapman got himself into some shit,” Nicky mutters. “You’re Park Ave. prime time rich kids. Why hasn’t he been paying his dealer?” 

“I—I don’t know,” Piper answers, throwing her hands about as she talks. “Well, my parents did freeze his account a while back because of his grades… Oh my God…”

“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be fine,” Alex says soothingly. “I can loan you a grand. What’s your daily ATM limit?” 

“I don’t know,” Piper says. “I’ve never had to withdraw the daily limit!”

Alex turns to Nicky, very calm and collected, deadly serious. “Ask Red.”

“Fuck that. I’ll withdraw what I can too.” Nicky takes a long swig straight from the champagne bottle and pushes her seat back as she stands. “I’m gonna see if Luschek is drunk enough to let me borrow his car.” 

As Nicky shoves her way through the crowd, Piper sits quietly, trying not to fall apart in public. She feels Alex’s hand on her leg again and this time Piper doesn’t freak out or push her away. Right now she needs all the comfort and strength she can get.

 

 

*

 

 

Of course Alex Vause with her cool, chill appearance and venomous hate for bad, amateur bagpipe-infused rock music, works at a low-key record store with a cardboard cutout of Lee Burley with a dick drawn on his face in the window display. 

The night is in full swing on the Lower East Side where the streets have names and not just numbers. Hipsters roam the streets in little packs, carrying on their debates on the human condition between drags of their shared cigarettes and whirls of smoke. Nicky parks Luschek’s piece of trash Honda Civic right in front of a group of said hipsters loitering across the street from the closed record store. 

“Alex, you can’t rob your work!” Piper nearly stomps her foot. “You’re going to get arrested!”

“Easy, Jiminy Cricket, the money’s in my locker.”

“You keep a thousand dollars in your locker at work?”

“Vause has this thing against banks, keeps her cash in air vents and shit,” Nicky explains. “Oh! Alex, don’t forget the record for the goth girl I texted you about. Piper and I are gonna hit up the ATM.”

Alex nods and heads around to the back of the record store as Nicky and Piper walk down the street until they come across an ATM machine and withdraw what they can.

“Alright. We’ve got Vause’s g, your 750, my 750, and we’re still short.”

Piper fidgets on a street square and looks down the row of mostly closed shops. When her eyes land on the illuminated open sign in a pawnshop window, she walks determinedly toward it with Nicky trailing her. The bell above the door jingles as they enter, alerting the middle-aged African American man behind the counter. He leers at Piper the moment she steps inside. 

“Rapey eyes.” Nicky coughs into her leather sleeve. “We’re only seventeen, motherfucker.” She coughs again for good measure. 

“Hi,” Piper says pleasantly. “I was wondering how much you think this would be worth.” Piper slides a little gold ring off her finger and hands it over for the man to inspect.

“Hmm, fifty and that’s me being generous.”

“Fifty!” Piper shouts, outraged. “This is a family heirloom! Grandmother left this for me specifically in her will! Check again, will you? Please?” 

“How much money are you looking for, girlie?” the man asks.

The bell above the door jingles again as Alex walks into the shop with a faded knapsack thrown over her shoulder. She slides right up next to Piper, moves her arm around her and kisses her cheek. Piper freezes, shocked by Alex’s actions and even more shocked at how okay she is with Alex’s actions.

“Hey, babe,” Alex says sweetly. Then she nods to the man. “Hey Gun, you aren’t scamming my girl, are you?”

He nods back. “Damn, this yours, Vause? Nah, I respect. But I don’t care if the Queen of England is her granny. This shit ain’t worth more than fifty. Maybe fifty-five because I think you got a cute little ass.”

“Forget it, Chapman,” Nicky says. “We’ll find another way.”

“Deal.” Piper sends the little ring one last longingly glance before training her mind on how this is a small sacrifice for her little brother’s freedom and safety.

“Hey.” Gun grins. “I’ll throw in another ten if you show me your cute little ass.”

 

 

*

 

 

Piper shoves past the pawnshop door and walks out into the night, rubbing at her phone that now has a phone number scrawled across it. The Sharpie starts to fade, but despite her best efforts it doesn’t disappear completely. Alex is on her heels while Nicky walks a little slower, counting out the measly fifty-five dollars.

“Can you believe that guy?” Piper sneers. “He continued to hit on me even after the fact! He knew I was seventeen and thought I had a girlfriend and still! Ugh!”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Alex says sheepishly. She looks uncharacteristically coy and it’s pretty cute, like a giant acting like a puppy. “I just saw the way he was looking at you and I know Gun and how he can be—”

“No, it’s fine,” Piper says shyly. She looks up at Alex through her lashes for a moment and sees the grin on the Amazon’s lips as she returns to the Alex she’s come to expect, so smug, yet still so alluring.

“Hey, not-lesbians, if you’re done pussyfooting around, we gotta head to Queens,” Nicky says. A knowing smirk plays at her lips and Piper curses herself for forgetting how observant her friend can be.

“Why Queens?” Piper asks.

“We’ve got no other choice, but to _beg_ Red.”

 

 

*

 

 

Before tonight, Piper has never realized how she’s sort of lived in a safe little bubble called the Upper East Side for most of her life. It had always had everything she ever needed so she hardly ventured outside unless it was to the Hamptons or trips to Paris in the summer. She has never really explored Manhattan in its entirety so forget about the other boroughs. 

Nicky leads them down an alleyway that runs alongside Dmitri’s, a Russian restaurant and bakery. She pushes her way into the kitchen like she’s done it a million times. Piper watches through the screen door as a group of older women sit play cards at a small table. Nicky approaches an intimidating woman with big Heat Miser hair and greets her as if they’re family. Piper’s about to walk inside when Alex catches her arm and draws her back.

“We should probably wait out here.” 

“Who is Red to Nicky?” Piper asks. 

“Her boss and surrogate mother of sorts. Nicky literally calls Red _mom_.” 

Piper sputters with surprised laughter. “Nicky Nichols has a job?”

“More like Nicky got really fucked up one night, crashed a motorcycle that wasn’t even hers right through the front door and has been working to pay off the damages ever since. Red’s good for her. Nicky used to be into some pretty hardcore stuff and Red cleaned her up…mostly. Lorna works here too. That’s how they met. They’re _Red’s girls_.”

“And you?”

“I’m not allowed inside anymore,” Alex confesses. “This one time I tagged along when Nicky came to pick up her paycheck, ended up getting high with Red’s sons and I ate like _everything_. The vatrushka is delicious.” 

“Why do I find that so charming?” Piper asks without thinking. 

“Maybe you just find _me_ charming.”

Just then, Nicky pushes her way out and the clatter of the door makes Piper literally jump. “Alright, 445 bucks added to the endless pit of debts I already owe Red. And she loaned me the first aid kit because she’s apparently psychic now.”

“Or she just knows you well,” Alex adds. 

Nicky skillfully wraps a rubber band around the wad of cash in her hand, smirking as she looks back and forth between Alex and Piper. “Did I miss something a little less non-lesbian?”

“Oh my God.” Piper literally does stomp her foot and marched back to the car.

“Nicky, you’re such a dick,” Alex mutters.

“What?” Nicky throws her hands up and cackles. “I just wanna let you two know that I expect to either be Best Man or Maid of Honor at the wedding! I’m not that picky!”

 

 

* 

 

 

When they go to meet Cal’s kidnappers, it’s at the Motel 6 on the other side of the Lincoln Tunnel. There’s no more laughter and no more non-lesbian jokes. They’re just three teenage girls sitting in a piece of shit car, waiting, waiting and waiting. 

Piper laughs out of nowhere and it’s such a terrifying, ghost of a sound. “The last thing I said to him, to Cal, this morning…the last thing I did was call him an idiot…”

Alex and Nicky don’t know how to respond to that so they don’t.

When that familiar van pulls up, Piper reaches for the door handle, but Alex grabs her arm and says no. She says she’ll do it. She doesn’t want Piper or Nicky getting out of the car. This is a different, darker side of Alex Vause. She’s no longer sweet, cute, Good Samaritan Alex. She’s serious and commanding Alex and it’s even sexier. Wait, sexier? Sexier like more sexy than the previous level of just sexy? Piper shuts her eyes tight for a long moment. This night is going to be the death of her.

So Alex (Piper is no longer going to think about the whole sexy debate) collects all of the money in the knapsack and gets out of the car to go meet the two men who drag out a body with a bag over his head. Piper sits on the edge of the seat and whimpers when she recognizes Cal’s Star Wars t-shirt from this morning. Nicky reaches out for her and takes a hold of Piper’s ice-cold hand. 

For a moment, Piper wonders what if Alex is some psycho who’s been working with these guys all along and this was a play to get their money? Piper wavers at times, but after everything they’ve been through together, seventeen years, she trusts Nicky. Can she trust Alex, a girl who’s cute and charming and magically finds cell phones and volunteers a thousand dollars to help a poor little rich girl? What if this is all a setup? What if—

Piper gasps as she watches Alex throw the bag of cash at one of the men and then punches him across the face. Even Nicky watches with her jaw hanging down. The man doesn’t retaliate, just takes the blow and hangs his head as Alex berates the both of them.

She really doesn’t want to know, but asks anyway. “Nicky, Poussey said something about Alex being ‘upper management.’ What does she do exactly?” 

“Uh, you know, I don’t ever ask and, honestly, I don’t really wanna know,” Nicky replies. “She isn’t kingpin status, but she doesn’t deal to NYU brats on street corners either. Basically, those guys are her bitches. What I do know is that she’s Alex. She’s a good friend and she comes through for you.”

Alex takes the bag off Cal’s head and Piper has to swallow a whimper when she sees his bruised face. Piper’s itching to get out of the car and help Alex, who’s got Cal’s arm around her shoulder, half-carrying half-dragging him. Wow, she really is an Amazon. Once the men drive off in the van, Piper finally jumps out of the car and goes to embrace her brother. 

“Cal!”

“Piper,” he mutters. “I fucked up…I fucked up…I fucked up...”

The blonde shushes him quietly and helps him into the backseat of the car. She sits beside him and Cal presses his face into his sister’s shoulder as a sob erupts in his throat and travels through his entire body.

“I’m not a man,” Cal whispers. “I’m not a man…I’m not a man…I’m not a man…”

“Guys, my parents can’t see him like this,” Piper says worriedly. She drapes her arm around his brother, careful not to hold him too tightly as he cries into her sweater.

“No worried, Chapmans,” Nicky says as she revs the engine. “I’ve had my own separate apartment since before I could walk. And my mom is probably in Aruba or some shit anyway. You can stay at my place.”

Piper’s about to thank Nicky, she’s been meaning to all day, but then Cal starts crying hysterically and all Piper can think to do it hug him and let the sense of relief and heartache wash over her as they drive off into the night.

 

 

*

 

 

When they get to Nicky’s loft, there are people everywhere, drinking and smoking and dancing to the loud house music played by the DJ in the living area. It’s no wonder why the doorman gave her a dirty look as they snuck in through the back—because this really isn’t Gossip Girl’s or the rest of the damn Upper East Side’s business. Nicky just assumed the look was because they were dragging in an injured kid and the disgraceful possibility that he might bleed all over the spotless lobby floor.

“Hey!” Morello runs up to them. She’s out of her concert-slash-clubbing garb, now wearing tiny jean shorts and a comfy black and white baseball tee with _Jets_ (clearly West Side Story, not football) across the chest. “You’re alive! And you all look scary sober!”

Nicky is so taken aback by the crowd of strangers in her home that she doesn’t even take the time to appreciate how you can totally see Morello’s hot pink bra through her tee. “What the fuck is this? Who are all these fucking people?” 

“Nicky!” shouts a blonde girl with cornrows and a neck tattoo. “Yo, I don’t know how this happened! I just invited a few people back after the club to, you know, chill and suddenly!” She motions to their surroundings and simulates an explosion with her hands.

“I’ll tell you what happened, Tricia!” Nicky shouts over the thumping music. “You were trying to impress that Mercy bitch and threw a fucking party! Fuck man, just get me a beer and you’re hiding all the sketchy shit before the maids come on Sunday, alright!" 

“Nicky!” Piper calls out to her, not knowing how much longer she can support Cal’s weight even with Alex holding up the other side of him. “Where can he sleep?”

Nicky shows them to the spare bedroom, where they walk in on Maritza Ramos, a Constance Billard girl pre-accidental pregnancy and Flaca's best friend also pre-accidental pregnancy, and her babydaddy well into the foreplay portion of the evening. Piper and Alex carefully bring Cal to the bathroom to clean him up a bit as Nicky yells at the house crashers to get the fuck out. They try to confuse her with Spanish and pretend they don’t understand English and it just makes Nicky angrier. It’s been too long a day for that game.

They realize they'd left the first aid kit in the car and make the educated guess that Nicky doesn’t have one. Alex runs to get it as Piper gets Cal cleaned up to the best of her limited abilities. He doesn’t seem to be hurt beyond the bruises and scrapes. He manages to walk on his own back to the guestroom and apologizes to his sister the entire time. Now that she can take a moment, Piper realizes she isn’t mad. People make dumb decisions. That’s a given. It doesn’t make them any less of a good person. 

There’s a knock on the door and Morello walks in with two bottles of water.

“Nicky said to bring this to you,” Morello says, handing one bottle to Piper and the other to Cal. “And I thought you could use this.” She digs into her pocket and pulls out an iPhone charger with a smiley face drawn on the adaptor in Sharpie. “That one was my idea. No way I’m giving Nichols credit there.”

“Thank you, Morello.” Piper twists off the cap and takes a small sip. She’s been so caught up in anxiety and stress (and thoughts of Alex) that she’s completely forgotten about feeling hunger or thirst or checking the battery on her phone. 7%. Aw, shit.

As Cal guzzles down his water and Piper leans over to plug her phone into the closest outlet, Morello quietly observes them. 

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say this isn’t exactly your scene,” Morello says. When Piper becomes aware of her watchfulness, Morello tries to ease her nerves by walking over to the nearby mirror and checking on her lipstick.   

“Nope, not my scene at all,” Piper confesses. “But it’s yours?” 

“Eh. Sometimes it’s better than home, you know? Home is just as crowded with loud, senseless strangers, but at least here no one’s gonna say anything if I have a sip or two of vino here and there. And I love my girls from my neighborhood, but sometimes I just don’t wanna see them, you know?”

“Mhmm,” Piper agrees. She thinks of Polly and Larry and how she hasn’t seen or communicated with either of them all day or night and she doesn’t feel as guilty as she maybe should.

“Nicky and Alex, well, they’re smug lesbian jerks is what they are, but I feel more like me when I’m around them,” Morello muses, continuing to read Piper’s mind. “Makes sense? I don’t know.”

“Totally,” Piper says. “They have that effect on a lot of people I’d assume.”

 “Once they accept you into the tribe—and make no mistake, Piper Chapman, you are definitely one of us now whether you like it or not—you’ve got another home if you want it. Not gonna lie, it’s a mess, we’re all a mess, but we’re a mess together and it’s home.” 

She isn’t really sure how Morello does it, but Piper finds herself smiling yet again.

Then, very quietly, almost inaudibly, Morello whispers, “I’d hate myself if I ruined what I got here…”

Piper is known for jumping to conclusions, often wrong conclusions, and Morello’s own little confession can easily be misleading, but Piper can’t help, but feel that she gets it, gets what Morello is saying, the heart of it, the fear in it. If only her strategy to play it safe wasn’t slowly killing Nicky in the process. 

Before any more can be said, Alex comes rushing into the room with the first aid kit, but Cal is already sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep. The girls all head for the door, but before Piper closes it behind her, she looks in on her little brother, so grateful that he’s alive and well and the night is finally over.

 

 

 *

 

 

“This night has been insane.”

“Insane?” Nicky asks in a way that’s clearly meant to tease Piper. “There haven’t even been any strippers or hard liquor! No methheads took their shirts off and danced to a shitty radio hit! Hate to break it to you, Alice, but you’re still only knee deep in our world.”

“If this is knee deep I don’t know if I could handle being fully submerged.” 

Piper looks across the kitchen to where Morello is trying to get Alex to eat something somewhat resembling nachos, but by the grossed out look on the much taller girl’s face, the food content is questionable at best. Nicky catches Piper watching, smiles and clicks her tongue. 

“You sure about that, Chapman? Looks to me like you’d like to be fully submerged in _someone_.” When Piper starts to turn red, Nicky sighs and props her elbow up on Piper’s shoulder. “Look, blondie, your brother’s safe and sound so it’s time to celebrate! You can finally let loose a bit. Here, the shot I promised you.” 

Nicky grabs a bottle of tequila and pours a shot with the precise twist of her wrist.

“We have school tomorrow,” Piper whispers. “I’m completely thrown off my sleep cycle. I usually wake up…three hours from now!”

“Hey, no one ever died from lack of sleep. Plus, that’s what Sister Ingalls’ class is for. I do this shit all the time. I’ll make sure we get to school…as close to on time as possible. All I’m sayin’ is if you don’t want anything to do with our crazy, fun Wonderland then cool, I respect that, it isn’t for everyone, _but_ you’re here now, might as well make the most of it.” 

Nicky pushes the shot glass closer to Piper, centimeter by centimeter. Piper looks from the shot to her enabler with tired eyes, drawing out this quiet little moment between them. 

“Thanks for everything, Nicky. I mean it.”

“Jesus, Chapman, kill the sentimentality and just fucking drink it already!”

Piper smiles and shifts her gaze to Alex, who’s manning the blender and making margaritas, as Constance Billard’s model student downs the shot of tequila, much to Nicky’s delight.

 

 

*

 

 

Piper wakes up to Alex asleep on one side of her and on her other side there’s Nicky with her head tilted back and her mouth open and Morello using Nicky’s outstretched arm as a pillow. Piper tries to make sense of how she ended up in this particular position. Everything after that first shot is a dirty blur. 

“You’re thinking so loud it’s giving me a headache.” Alex’s voice is caught between being joking and exhausted. She flashes Piper a smile before pushing her glasses up into her hair and rubbing her eyes. “Shit, I hate falling asleep with my glasses on.”

“Did we have an orgy last night?” Piper shouts.

Alex laughs like she finds Piper on the verge of hyperventilating pretty damn cute. “Sadly, no. There’s just perverts passed out in every other room aside from this one and the one your brother’s in so we came in here to sleep. You were already out cold. Did you know you sleep like a starfish?”

Piper ignores that and turns to Nicky who grunts in her sleep and shifts closer to Morello. Nicky’s hand moves to Morello’s hip and when she tugs her closer, the dark-haired girl’s faded red lips slide into a smile. Alex leans over Piper to wave a hand in front of Nicky and Morello’s faces. When they don’t react, Alex grabs Piper’s beat up phone and snaps a picture of their sleeping friends before falling back against a pillow with a laugh.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but there’s fucking gum jammed into your phone,” Alex says groggily. "And Polly has texted...and called...and tweeted you like a million times." 

Nicky mumbles in her sleep. Something that sounds a lot like "thirsty bitch."

“I’m aware. No clue how that happened, but I know,” Piper says as calmly as possible. She looks over at Nicky again and sighs. “I don’t mean to shit on your dreams, but Nicky, we have to be on campus in two hours!” Piper really, really, _really_ hates to have to do this, but starts shaking Nicky by her shoulders. “Nicky!”

“Jeez! All I need is ten minutes to put on mascara and throw on some clothes,” Nicky mumbles, still with her eyes cemented shut. “Fine, we’ll go. Twenty minutes. You can borrow whatever. Go crazy, Chapman.”

Piper worms her way out from the middle of the bed, briefly fighting with the sheets that are twisted around her legs, between Alex’s legs and under Nicky. Piper manages to stumble out and to Nicky’s walk-in closet. She starts sifting through the stacks of clothes, searching for some acceptable form of Constance Billard uniform. 

“Do you have anything that doesn’t smell like nicotine and meaningless sex?” Piper shouts. Quiet laughter meets her ears and when she turns, Alex is leaning in the doorway.

“So, Nicky needs her cold med cocktail and she’ll be right as rain. For Lorna, I usually make her one of those toaster waffles and she usually shoves it in her mouth as she runs out the door, freaking out over being late for school. What can I get for you, kid?”

“A do-over button would be nice. Thanks.”

“Hmm, don’t think Nicky’s got one of those in the pantry, but I could check.” 

“Tea,” Piper says. “Some tea to-go would be great. Thanks for asking.”

Piper brings a blazer to her nose to sniff and it smells like deodorant and that’s good enough for her. She doesn’t hear retreating footsteps and when she turns, Alex is even closer. 

“After our traditionally hectic quickie breakfast, you aren’t going to disappear on me, are you, Piper Chapman?”

“I kind of owe you a thousand dollars,” Piper says, the first thing that came to her mind evidentially. Alex laughs softly and Piper’s still asking herself why this chick makes her so nervous and bumbling, this chick who’s also affiliated with drug dealers, but who’s also undoubtedly gorgeous. It’s plain to see regardless of your sexual preference.

“Wait, you have a little something…” Alex reaches out and Piper knows she should pull away. She knows she should shut this down, but doesn’t move as Alex pulls a chewed up lime wedge from her tangled blonde hair. “Get-togethers at Nicky Nichol’s are always an adventure.” 

“I—I have a boyfriend,” Piper blurts out. She expects Alex to color with confusion or embarrassment, anything other than amusement.

“It’s cool.” Alex laughs gently. “I have a girlfriend.”

That’s when Alex kisses her in Nicky Nichol’s closet and Piper doesn’t stop her. She just closes her eyes and lets herself slip deeper and deeper into this mind-altering, liquor-drenched drug of a wonderland.

 

 

 _Spotted: N and P literally running late for school_. _Maybe N is rubbing off on our queen in more ways than one…or maybe that’s their Rockabilly Babe Escort’s job? My, oh my, what ever will Pie Fucker think of all this? (But does anyone really care what Pie Fucker thinks?) And so the plot thickens. Where were our favorite insiders all night long and who is this Rockabilly Babe? Stick with me, Gossips. Only time will tell. Well, time and me._

_Xoxo Gossip Girl_

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I won't lie. This was super fun to write, a fun 'verse in general. Might become a series one day. I don't know. (But Gossip Girl probably does.)
> 
> Fun fact: Every OITNB character has a role and a life in this universe similar to their canon one, but somehow tweaked whether they were shown or mentioned or not. I thought out most of all of it. I am a psycho.


End file.
